True Colours
by slashburd
Summary: It doesn't always have to be slap and tickle or rough and tumble to mean something. Mild, fluffy and hopefully funny slash, if you don't like then please don't read, you have been warned. All reads and reviews appreciated as always.


Randy sat on the edge of the rather uncomfortable bed and started to towel off his legs. The water mixed greasily with the last remnants of the baby oil that the lukewarm shower had failed to remove. After several minutes of rubbing and drying between the toes of his aching feet he finally sprawled backwards, his long legs draped over the edge and his back flush against the cool cotton sheets. It had been a long day of travel and then straight to the arena. He was shattered and had been for a few days since the late night they'd all managed after the pay per view. It was a shame he couldn't say the same for someone else.

"She take my money, well I'm in need  
Yeah she's a triflin' friend indeed!"

The high pitched falsetto echoed in the tiny tiled enclosure that passed for a bathroom. Every day the same, an a capella performance whether they'd got hangovers, layovers, stopovers or takeovers. Randy didn't have to get off the bed to know that moves were being busted and that John's ass would be brushing first the wall and then the shower curtain. With a slow shake of his head he let the inevitable smile cross his face and wondered just how the hell he, Randy Orton, ex-Marine, ex-husband and father of one had ended up the long term lover of one of the most ridiculously giddy people on the planet, let alone in their business.

Jerking back to upright he leaned over to the pile of neatly folded clothes on the chair at the end of the bed and grabbed his sweats and t-shirt, pausing before pulling them on and shuffling back up towards the headboard. Moments later he'd stolen John's pillows and put them behind his back, the bump he'd taken over the top rope a sharp reminder at the time that he wasn't getting any younger. It had left him with a niggling pain that a shot from the trainer hadn't managed to move. He flicked the tv to life and immediately headed for ESPN, partly for the results he wanted to see but because it was futile getting into anything else. The minute John emerged he'd be glued to it so Randy figured a while back that there was no sense in fighting. The last couple of days he'd been too tired to stay up watching films anyway so it hadn't made that much difference.

The scrolling of the screen flickered against the dim walls of the hotel room and Randy tossed the remote down the bed, locking his arms behind his head and flexing his spine. The movements were gentle back and forth then side to side motions, loosening the tight muscles and cracking out the tensions that sat stiff in the discs of his back. Soon enough the warm feeling flooded up his body and the well rehearsed exercises could stop. It was the only thing he had to thank Ken for; the regime that was stopping him getting hurt in more than his shoulder. He never failed to be amazed how many guys just went out there and did their thing, hardly warming up and never warming down. In the fullness of time he knew his dedication would pay off and in any event it made him sleep better which could only be a good thing.

One eye was just starting to sneak shut when the bathroom door opened and a rush of steam escaped into the cool air. With it came the scent of Polo Sport, the only thing John was fixated with. It wasn't as if Randy was going to complain. It gave him a dependable present at every birthday and Christmas. He loved the assumption that just because he was a gay man that he suddenly loved shopping and always had a long list of 'fabulous' ideas for gifts. Nothing could be further from the truth hence John had a lot of his cologne, a lot of matching shower gel and a bigger throwback collection than Mitchell & Ness.

"Rays?"

"Not been on yet. Get your ass dry before you worry about them."

Randy's pretend scowl had no effect on John at all. He stood defiantly in the centre of the room before dropping his towel in a dramatic fashion. Teasing and tormenting Randy was one of his favourite pastimes and he had no intention of doing anything less than usual. One of the things he knew was that Randy loved his freshly washed skin. No oil, no makeup; nothing. Just bare skin, still ever so slightly damp which made their bodies cling together even more readily than usual.

As he bent over to pick the towel up John propped himself on the back of the chair and looked back at Randy under his arm, smiling widely at his lover left yet again shaking his head. Once the towel was retrieved he tossed it back into the aired out bathroom and padded over to the bed. With his general lack of grace he threw one leg over Randy and straddled him at the hips.

"I'm dry."

"Good. Now are you watching this or am I turning it over?"

Despite the sharply spoken words Randy knew in his heart that his Mr Nasty act didn't work with John. It never had. John wasn't scared of him, not even intimidated. They'd shared too much and knew each other too well for that to happen or for words to come between them. He tried to keep his stare straight ahead meaning that he was currently focused on the dip at the bottom of John's throat, the bone pushing at the skin more gently than his own did. The shadow caught it and Randy thought about leaning forward and biting it, an action that generally led to play wrestling and more. He liked that spot best after a match when the barest trace of salt met his exploring tongue, his chest rapidly met by John's own as it would start to heave. Instead he looked up and straight into the piercing blue eyes that somehow never looked as cold or as vacant as others did. He drowned in these eyes, let them take him beyond his cares to somewhere he was never anything but happy.

"You hungry cos you're looking at me like Show looks at a t-bone and an extra side 'a fries?"

It wasn't a winning smile, it was _the _winning smile. Randy had never felt himself react to the change in one person's face like he had with John. He knew every muscle, every twitch and exactly what it meant. He'd known it before they finally made the move to get together and now he'd seen that face contorted through everything from fear to pain to ecstasy and back again they were as familiar as his own reactions.

"I could go a burger, you?"

John leaned forward and kissed Randy's forehead, his warm palmed hands coming to rest on the lean shoulders that had sunk into the piled pillows.

"Yeah, you know me. Always hungry for somethin'."

Feeling a pair of hands appear around his hips John sat back and flashed his grin again. The slender fingers covered an impressive amount of his skin when they splayed out, the barely rough tips pressing into his skin as the joints flexed. In return he pulled his calves back towards Randy's cotton-clad legs and squeezed them, the stirring in his groin becoming all the more prominent as it bobbed with the muscle movement. He covered Randy's hands with his own and pressed down on them softly, a mark of affection for a man who made him feel like no other. A touch that he wanted on his body always, a touch that he felt for hours after they'd rested on him; that left him like memory foam in the ring when the strong arms curled around his neck and slammed him to the ground. He'd lay there and stifle his smile, the heat of his muscles increasing as much through lust as strain and while Randy stood above him celebrating he could still feel the three-second long handprints on his shoulders or wrists.

"Greedy. That's your problem Cena. Never knew when to stop and say you'd had enough. Just how you ended up with me. Had to keep going, taking the pain to get to the prize. Greedy, glory-hungry fucker that you are."

"Ortz, there's no need to be like that man," John climbed off Randy, rolled off the bed and onto his feet near his gear bag. "You know you wouldn't have me be any other way. If I didn't keep you guessin' you'd go more crazy and besides, I wanna go eat before I get another one of your lectures and risk dyin' of boredom or starvation..."

The smile in John's voice was so hardly concealed that it really wasn't. Randy loved the fact that he could stick it to John 24/7 and nothing would ever change. There were few crossed words between them and their banter passed the time in hotel rooms, on flights and in their bed before, during and after. Randy knew that whenever they were together there was a chance of mayhem but an even bigger chance of him feeling good and not being so concerned about his career, his health or their future. Things had changed since they'd hooked up. Not many liked their arrangement but they had the company over a barrel. They were needed and they knew it. Steph was no longer speaking to them and sent Hunter as her errand boy to deliver their scripts and to discuss new angles if they were both involved in them.

Exhibiting his usual skill in getting dressed in mere moments, John turned to face Randy after putting his shorts and baggy white vest on, letting his eyes scan from the bed to the floor and back again as he looked for his sneakers.

"So, you comin' to eat or layin' there like an worn-out old man?"

"I'm coming but you're buying. If it wasn't for you and your 'appetite' we'd have been able to make catering before the show."

Randy's lips curved into the epitome of a sly grin as he threw his legs back over the edge of the bed and got up, not bothering to put anything on his feet as he headed for the door. Grabbing the handle he pulled it open, glancing back over his shoulder to see John's round ass in the air as he meticulously tightened the laces on the latest pair of high-tops he'd deemed stylish enough to adorn his feet. His smile didn't fade but grew wider, his thoughts wicked in both memory and intention. Their rest day tomorrow was much needed and well deserved although he wasn't sure just how much they'd see of the locale or even the outside world.

"Wallet, wallet, wallet..."

As the door drifted shut Randy made his way down the corridor, knowing full well that it would take as many minutes for the muttering John to find what he had clearly mislaid as it would for the elevator to reach their floor. Resting his shoulder against the cool metal of the frame he kept an eye on their room from afar and awaited the half sprinting large-framed figure that seemed to spend most of its time galloping to his side. Pressing the button again impatiently he heard the creak of their room door opening and saw John backing out whilst patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything. Like with most hotels he could've just told John to put the food on their tab but there was something endearing about the fact that if John was paying, he was paying. The older man might be a goof but he was also a gentleman. Thick hips swung side to side and the lack of underwear was more than apparent but as the broad body reached his and pressed against it, Randy happily conceded that all was good with the world. Apart from his need for something hot and filling. And some food.

As the elevator doors opened and Randy slid inside it, John followed and leaned back against one of the sides. Crossing his arms and then his feet he looked in an unusually pensive mood.

"Hey, you never did finish tellin' me just how you got Vince to agree to us both wearin' purple..."

With one raised eyebrow Randy saw the opportunity to do a little winding up of his own for a change.

"Don't ask, don't tell, John. Don't ask, don't tell..."

* * *

**A/N: Centon fluff is making me smile so much right now! All reads and reviews appreciated as always!**


End file.
